Who Will Take Care of the Flowers?
by LanceGirl3031
Summary: Ash and his friends are having a hard time after Mrs. Ketchum's death.


Who Will Take Care of the Flowers? By Gengar 

DISCLAIMER: I do not claim to own any of the Pokémon characters. They belong to who they belong to. I am making no money off of this story, so please don't sue. 

Well, I've had some tell me this is a tear-jerker, and some that it was sad, but left them short of crying. Either way, it IS sad, but I hope folks who read it enjoy it. It was written in response to a challenge on the pokémon fan fic mailing list to write a really sad pokémon fic. 

"Pika?" 

Ash Ketchum smiled wanly at his little friend. "You stay in the house, okay?" he said hollowly. 

"Pika...." the little thunder mouse started to protest. 

"Please, Pikachu, I need to be alone now, okay?" 

"Pika, pika," Pikachu sighed resignedly, watching as Ash slowly walked out the back door. 

Ash shivered, the cold wind whirling around him, mirroring the feeling in his soul. He looked around the small back yard. Even in the late fall it was still immaculate, pansies bowing back and forth in their beds as the wind shook them. 

"You can't even have the decency to make it an ugly day!" Ash screamed in his mind, looking up at the bright blue sky, dotted with fluffy white clouds. "Don't you know how I feel? How am I going to live without her?" Tears started stinging his cheeks as he walked over to the flower bed nearest the wrought iron swing. How many times had he seen her swinging happily, working on some little project of hers? But he didn't sit in the swing. Instead he fell heavily to the cold, hard ground beside the pansy bed. 

Misty Seahorn watched him sadly from the upstairs bedroom window. She had no idea what to do. They had been coming back to Pallet to celebrate. This wasn't supposed to happen. 

She shuddered as the images played themselves over in her mind. She couldn't stop the memory. It was like a video set on automatic loop. 

A week before they had been coming home after Ash won his battle with Lance, the final member of the Elite Four. His dream had come true! At fifteen, not only had he become a Pokémon Master, but one of the youngest ever. She and their friend Brock Craig had joked that they didn't know what they were going to do with him, since his head had swelled too big to fit through the door. 

As they walked down the street toward Ash's house, they saw his mother, Sara Ketchum, standing at the mailbox. She had been thumbing through her mail until Ash yelled at her from a distance. 

"MOM I DID IT!" he shouted, not caring who heard. 

"Yes, I know, I know!" The word had spread like wildfire, and Misty supposed Mrs. Ketchum must have heard about it on the news. Misty remembered her broad smile and her hurrying toward them. Then it happened. 

The truck came careening over the small rise veering all over the road. Misty felt as if her heart had stopped as Ash screamed, "MOM, LOOK OUT!" 

But it was too late. All three of them saw her get hit. In one horrible, agonizing moment she was gone. 

Misty started crying again. She thought she had cried herself dry at the funeral the day before, but the tears just kept coming. Sarah Ketchum had been like a second mother to her. She could only imagine how Ash felt. 

And what really hurt was the total unfairness of it all. Brock, knowing Ash and Misty would go to Mrs. Ketchum, memorized the license plate number of the truck and grabbed his phone out of his backpack to call 9-1-1. They would later find out, however, that the truck had been stolen and was found abandoned a few blocks over. Friends and neighbors could not give any description of the driver, it had all happened so fast. So it was highly unlikely they would even know who did it. 

"Toge briiii?" came a small, sad voice and a little hand pulled on Misty's pants leg. 

"Oh, Togepi," she cried, picking her pokémon up and hugging her close. She knew her pokémon understood what had happened. She knew Pikachu understood too, for he and Togepi had both witnessed the accident. Brock had later told her that Pikachu had run up the street screaming trying to throw thunderbolts at the fleeing vehicle. But he had been so furious his aim was off. Misty had remembered hearing Pikachu's screams, but had not seen him. She had her back turned to him. 

"Brrriiiii," Togepi said sadly. 

Misty wiped the tears from her eyes. She took Togepi downstairs with her, setting her little pokémon on the kitchen table. Brock was sitting at the table, absently stirring a cup of coffee. Pickachu was sitting beside him on the floor, a mournful expression on his little face. 

"Where are you going?" Brock asked as she put on her jacket, which had been hanging on one of the kitchen chairs. 

"Outside," Misty replied, setting Togepi down on the floor. 

"How long do you think he'll stay out there?" Brock quietly asked. 

"I don't know," Misty answered. She looked around. "Where's Mimey?" 

"In Sarah's room," Brock sighed heavily. Mimey had stayed in Sarah's room ever since the funeral. Sarah had been his best friend. "Um, Misty?" Brock asked as she started for the door. 

"Yeah?" she asked turning toward him. 

"Are you sure you should? Maybe Ash just wants to be alone right now." 

Misty shrugged. "Maybe. But I just want to let him know I'm there for him." 

Brock didn't try to stop her as she went out the door. He didn't know if it was the right thing to do, but he didn't even know if there was a right thing to do. He was very angry, confused and hurt himself. 

Misty shivered as the cold wind gusted around her and pulled her collar a little closer around her neck. She went over to Ash and sat down beside him. The ground was cold and hard, but that didn't matter to her. All that mattered to her was her friend. 

Ash didn't move at first when Misty put her arm around him and hugged him. But after a moment he put his head on her shoulder. 

"Wh-what am I gonna do, Misty?" he choked out. "She's always been there for me. Even when we were on the road." A look of anger crossed his face. "It's so unfair," he railed. "She didn't deserve that! No one deserves that!" He pulled away from Misty's embrace. He trembled, gazing at the purple, yellow and white pansies in the bed, the flowers his mother had so carefully tended. 

"Who's gonna take care of the flowers, Misty?" he asked, tears once again falling down his face. "I...I don't know how." 

"I don't know," Misty answered truthfully. There was no way she could pretend to have the answers. Ash might be a newly-minted Pokémon Master, but he was also a 15-year-old, a minor who now had no family. She had no idea what was going to happen. 

Misty took a deep breath before speaking. "Ash," she said quietly, "I can't pretend to know why this happened. I don't know what to say. Everything I think about saying just sounds so...so wrong. I just want you to know I'm here for you. Always." 

"There is no always," Ash said bitterly. 

"Oh, Ash," Misty thought. She took his hand in hers. "I am here for you now and for as long as I am able." 

"I know, Misty. You don't know how much I appreciate that." 

"Come on," Misty said softly. "It's getting really cold out here." Ash nodded, and they stood to go back into the house. But before they left, Misty stooped down and picked on of the purple and black pansies. 

"I'll press it for you," she said, "so you'll have a remembrance." 

Ash smiled wanly. "Like I'll ever forget her." 

"Believe me, none of us will." 

~Finis~ 


End file.
